a pickle

Normally, I like pickles, but this one...this one is of the metaphorical variety.

(Rather than my preferred polski ogorki variety.)

It seems that a work-friend who I confided in, thinking she was doing a good thing, outed my uncomfortable feelings to the person who made me feel that way before I was ready to have a conversation with that person about it.

I know that she was trying to help. I know she meant well. But I wasn't ready to confront it yet, and I'm a big girl; I fight my own battles, and I would've gotten there in good time. I just...hadn't quite digested yet.

So now I don't know what to do, because I feel like I can't talk to her about stuff anymore, and I so want to, but at the same time, if I ask her about it, (in the hope of sorting it out and assuring myself that if it was her that said something, she won't do it again, since she now has a better understanding of my process) that may make it seem like even more of a big deal at work when it's already been blown way out of proportion.

Office politics are the devil's handiwork.

I am a say-what-you-mean-and-mean-what-you-say kind of girl. I like my truth the way I like my gin: straight-up, and perhaps a bit sloppy. (I do love a dirty martini -- look it up, it's a real term, I swear!)

Now I just want to keep my head down, my mouth shut, and get through the shift without saying anything to anybody for fear of how and when it will come back to me.

If anybody has any constructive thoughts on the situation, I'd love to hear 'em.

I'm off to brood some more.