Repainting the Signs…

Repainting the Signs… (Because Apparently That’s My Job Too)…

When I read this daily writing prompt, I was like hell no!

I’m allergic to the news these days, genuinely. It makes my skin itch and my soul ache. I don’t read the local papers (all programmed, thanks), and I wouldn’t touch the telly news with a disinfected barge pole. But every now and then, something ridiculous slips through, a story so mind-numbingly uninteresting that it loops back around and hits a nerve. And somehow, in its blandness, it mirrors something in my own life. So here we are: me, the news avoider, writing about something I was never meant to see, and what it unexpectedly stirred up in me.

I came across a story on my news feed, nothing dramatic. Just a short piece about the local council repainting street signs in town. Two days of work, no road closures, no fuss. Not exactly edge-of-your-seat material, and I probably would’ve scrolled right past it… Except it got under my skin quietly.

There’s something about the simplicity of it, freshening up old signs, making sure people don’t lose their way. It’s the kind of job that goes unnoticed unless it’s not done. And that’s what caught me: how many of us spend our lives doing just that? The quiet, necessary, mostly invisible work of keeping things on track. The emotional equivalent of pointing people in the right direction, often while still trying to figure out our own.

I’ve done a lot of that. Lived a lot of my life quietly in the wings. Making things better, smoother, less chaotic for others, often without them even realizing it. No big headlines, no medals. Just quietly repainting signs. Reassuring someone they’re not lost. Saying “this way, love,” even when I’m knackered and holding the brush with my last bit of energy.

And we don’t talk about that kind of work enough. We’re obsessed with big wins, dramatic life changes, flashy new starts. But what about the slow, humdrum graft? The holding space, the listening, the small kindnesses that never make a noise?

So yeah, the article was boring. But maybe boring is where all the real stuff lives. The showing up. Trying again. Loving someone through their storm, and yourself through yours.

And maybe, in a world full of shouting and rushing, being someone who quietly repaints the signs is actually a bit of a superpower.

Mae 🧡


Comments

25 responses to “Repainting the Signs…”

  1. From the series:

    “If it’s not going to make the headlines, then it’s not worth doing.”

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Joey Jones Avatar
    Joey Jones

    love slow living x

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You’ve done it again! I was only pondering on my companion archetype yesterday, being the facilitator for others, the co-worker, the sidekick… but no more! The T shirt business is in full swing, I am the visionary, the entrepreneur, the big chief… yeah, pick that up will you… the guru, the saviour!….
    ‼️ ⛔️
    (This post has been shut down to too much egocentric material on a Tuesday, please reset to factory settings)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, I felt the power surge through that first paragraph, until Tuesday’s spiritual firewall kicked in and blocked the download! 🔥 From sidekick to savior in under 60 seconds? That’s gotta be some kind of soul-speed record. And yes, I will pick that up for you, just as soon as I find my own guru hat and reset this ego back to “supporting character with flair.” 😇 You crack me up 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Thanks Mae, I’m glad you’ve got things under control your end and thank heavens the spiritual firewall kicked in! The blog police have just left, I’ve been reprimanded for ‘cross post’ comments, apparently it screws up the algorithms. I’ve finally calmed down, due to a couple of Mogadon I took that I’ve had since the 80’s, when GP’s were dishing them out like smarties.
        I’m hoping after a good nights sleep I can revert to wandering the cliffs and wistfully staring out the sea.
        And yes, you crack me up too 🤭
        Night 💤 💜

        Like

      2. Oh, thank the stars for your spiritual firewall and vintage Mogadon! 😄 Honestly, if the blog police can’t handle a little cross-posting rebellion, that’s their algorithmic burden, not ours. Sleep well, dream of salty air and poetic cliffs, and may tomorrow bring just the right amount of wistful sea-staring and subtle mischief. 🧡

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Morning Mae,
        Thanks for your reply and the kind support regarding the algorithmic hoodlums.
        Despite waking from a good nights sleep I’ve been called to the warehouse as there’s an issue with the purple tabards. Apparently, the colouring on the embroidered ‘Welcome, I’m your regression protector and shock absorber of the past and present’ has bleed into the ‘Microwave chicken and chips meal deal for 1’ promo on the pocket.
        Can you believe it?!
        Gotta dash…

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Evening!

        I knew those purple tabards were trouble the minute we gave them titles longer than their wearers’ CV’s. Bleed-through from “regression protector” to “chicken and chips meal deal for 1” sounds like a metaphor for modern life, if ever there was one.

        Hope the warehouse crisis resolves without casualties, emotional or polyester. Keep me posted if we need to launch a line of trauma-informed aprons instead.

        Power to you, noble shock absorber.😂😂😂

        Liked by 1 person

      5. I think you’re right, the tabard brain storming session was a chaotic mistake, I mean, how many types of Velcro are there!
        But, as always, you’ve planted a seed.
        I like the apron idea and I’ve just sketched out a new line – Trauma warmers? Purple gilets with buzz words like ‘resilience’, ‘empowerment’, ‘Ibruprofen 2 for 1’.
        I’ll run the ideas past the CSH team (cascading stress hormones) first, obviously!
        😉💜

        Liked by 1 person

      6. Ha ha! This is pure gold. I knew you’d run with it in your own brilliant, chaotic style. “Trauma warmers” has me cackling — can we please add a matching beanie that says “holding it together with duct tape and sarcasm”? And of course, purple is the only acceptable colour for gilets worn by the emotionally resilient. Can’t wait to see what the CSH team has to say… though I’m guessing there will be spreadsheets, snacks, and possibly a group cry. 😂 🧡

        Liked by 1 person

      7. Sorry for delay in replying, I had a late one with the CSH team. Our meeting went on and on 🙄 due to an over enthusiastic PowerPoint prat flicking back and forth between images of a Celiac that had inadvertently wandered down the bread aisle and fallen into a tray of sourdough baps (carnage) and designs for the new freezer dept mittens.
        I threw your beanie idea into the mix too and they want to run with it so thanks for that!
        There were snacks but someone with a nut allergy licked a macadamia (thinking it was an albino olive) and went into anaphylactic shock. You were right, it did end in tears but no group hugs.
        The CSH team certainly live up to their name.
        I’m exhausted. 💤 😴 😉💜

        Like

      8. 😂 That sounds like a full-scale saga! Glad the beanie idea survived the chaos, hope you’ve had a good lie-down since. 🧡

        Liked by 1 person

      9. 😂🙏💜

        Liked by 1 person

  4. Mae, this really struck me. You’ve captured something beautiful about the unsung heroes among us – those who quietly hold things together whilst the world chases headlines. Your point about boring being where the real stuff lives is spot on. Thank you for seeing the profound in the mundane.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Ah, thank you so much for that Bob, it means a lot. I think I’ve spent half my life side-eyeing the spotlight and quietly applauding the ones who keep the kettle on and the chaos at bay. 🙃 There’s real magic in the steady hands and the “boring” bits, isn’t there? The stuff that doesn’t shout but somehow holds everything up. I’m so glad that came through. Here’s to the quiet anchors and all their invisible glue. 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

  5. What a tremendous point. Someone (don’t recall who) wrote something to the effect that to live and work anonymously, without the great adulation that comes with certain acts and positions, requires a courage nobody has yet given a name to. As you say, I think that applies to most of us. There aren’t any admiring press conferences, headlines, or awards in our futures, but the impact made is far more impactful than that.

    Wonderfully put, Mae!

    –Scott

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Scott, what a beautiful reflection—thank you. That unnamed courage you mention… yes, I feel it too. The kind that quietly shows up, day after day, doing the not-so-glamorous, necessary work of holding a life, and often others, together.
      No fanfare, no headlines, but deep impact all the same. I think there’s a quiet dignity in that kind of living. Maybe the recognition isn’t missing, it’s just happening in quieter ways: a glance, a shared moment, a life that feels a little less heavy. 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Quiet dignity and living is a wonderful way of putting it, Mae. I really enjoyed this post today!
        –Scott

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thank you so much, Scott. There’s a real strength in quiet dignity, isn’t there? It doesn’t shout, but it stays. Appreciate you reading and walking that path too. 🧡

        Liked by 1 person

  6. I love this post, Mae. Love those who quietly go about their work, neither getting nor expecting appreciation. Satisfied with knowing it was a job well done :)

    A news story here that started out quite boring has become a huge source of entertainment for me. Our city issued new trash bins to each household recently. They are equipped with an arm on the front that makes it so the cans can be wheeled to the garbage truck, secured by the arm, and mechanically dumped so the sanitation workers don’t have to lift and dump them manually (and physically touch each person’s trash.) A boring story? Not by a long shot, lol. The city has been in an uproar over these new cans for three months now, though they cost us nothing, added not a cent to our garbage bills, and look a lot nicer lined up at the curbs than a random mishmash of bags, boxes and cans. It amazes me what people will find to complain about :)

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh I love everything about this Jean, especially the tribute to the quiet doers. Heroes without headlines. 🧡

      And the bin saga!! That’s pure gold. Honestly, give people a free upgrade and they’ll still rise up like it’s a medieval revolt. I can just picture the outraged town meetings and dramatic bin demonstrations. “Not MY rubbish!” Humans, eh? Endlessly entertaining… Thank you for stopping by and sharing that x

      Liked by 2 people

  7. Dear Mae
    It’s always a moment of reckoning when I read your post. This post is a fine example.
    Thanks for liking my post Life’s 🙏❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That means a lot, thank you. Sometimes reckoning is the first step toward real seeing, and I’m honored if anything I wrote helped open that door, even a little. 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

  8. Mae I enjoyed this post a lot You do so well bringing things to light. There are many unsung heroes that we don’t hear about.
    That is because what they do they do not do to get attention or credit. The good deeds they do bring them pleasure and satisfaction. I wonder though how much better the world would be if we heard more about those unsung heroes than what is in the papers and on the news now. My thoughts…it would be much better.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, Mags. I really appreciate that. And I agree with you completely. The true heroes rarely make the headlines, but their quiet acts of kindness and courage are what really keep the world turning. Imagine how different things might feel if the nightly news were filled with stories of compassion, community, and quiet strength instead of fear and division. We’d probably all sleep a little better. 🧡

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