Honesty honestly?

On Monday, after realising a seemingly unresolvable situation that would satisfy both my employer and myself, and after varying degrees of upset from sobbing to hysterical wailing in a variety of work toilets (and occasionally mid-toilet block when a transfer was required when some inconsiderate employee came in), I resigned.

Within the resignation conversation, however, my employer offered me an opportunity to stay under my terms (within reason), working on the account I wanted to.

The terms my employer had originally offered me would have basically made me utterly miserable.

But, had I not faced the hopeless situation of being stranded in London without anywhere to live and that I really could under no circumstances accommodate to those terms, I would have probably accepted them without challenge and just continued to whinge (to my family; to my friends; on this blog...there maybe a reason my boyfriend's got a ticket to NZ. I should check its not one-way).

I would have probably even thanked them for the time they had taken to present me with this miserable and hopeless option of future employment and perhaps even bought them a cup of tea.

This has made me realise how little I stand up for myself and say what I actually think.

I have been told that I am a nice person before (the description of the word 'nice' to be addressed in a future blog, as even reading that non-descript, flaky word makes me tense. Its a word I tend to use as a last resort in describing someone, after failing to identify any inspiring or distinguishing personality traits or characteristics. Fundamentally there's nothing to particularly like about them but equally nothing to be offended by, they're just....nice).

I don't think I am nice. I think I just haven't developed the ability to be honest and say what I think (maybe my unsettling consistent gurgling of expletives on my tongue is my body's way of verbally expressing the built up angst).

It doesn't stop there either. When I came out of our initial meeting, where I had listened to them, my face blank, internal monologue muttering loudly 'no, no, no', I told my sister exactly how I felt. She pointed out that, perhaps, I should tell them.

This is typical WebStress. I am unable to string together coherent, clear, concise sentences that summarise how I feel. At least to the person in question (if I had been able to do this, BT and British Gas would have felt my wrath on numerous occasions, rather than my frustrated muttering of '...right' to various uninterested and unhelpful employees and instead directing my anger (and a variety of colourful expletives) at the automated menu system instead).

I can attribute a hefty amount of this to being a coward, not having courage in my convictions and being terrified of upsetting or angering someone (even though this would usually eventually resolve in a better situation all round, but you try telling me that).

But I'll allow the other half to be attributed to my mouth receiving thoughts from my brain via, it seems, my kidneys. Direct synaptic responses from my brain have abandoned me and instead I have been replaced with an unreliable, inconsistent system which often means the words reach my mouth approximately 5 minutes to 5 days after their initial conception in the murky, disorganised depths of my conscious.

Which is quite frustrating.

Unfortunately, by this point, the person(s) in question are usually long gone and my hapless friends are left to receive my torrent of confused ramblings. Even if said persons are present, there isn't, in my experience, usually a good time once the event has passed to raise a witty, cutting or just damn right truthful retort to previously completed discussions.

I know I am far from unique in this and am unlikely to improve this piece of the proverbial pie of truth.

But my cowardice is something that perhaps should be addressed, preferably before I decide that handing in my notice is the right thing to do in order to resolve a situation.

In this instance, facing hopelessness and with nothing left to lose, I achieved some vague amount of misplaced strength.

My initial preferred method of faked bravery, however successful, seems a little distressing and emotional to achieve in day to day situations. I think I need a re-think.