The Harder I Try…
Within hours of getting laid off from my job, we got swamped at work. So – for now at least (subject to change without notice, how can I plan with that? [not that I can actually plan anything these days]) – I have a job.
And today, a job showed up in the paper for a legal assistant. A dream job (or maybe not, but how will I know unless I try?). Can I really apply, with a clear conscious, if I know I’m leaving? Do I ask my boss if I have a job next week? Does he know if I have a job next week?
Freelance stuff is overwhelming me (a good problem to have), but I don’t have all the necessary tools – not without investing money I don’t have. (Anyone have a PMS color swatch book they’re not using?)
Then, there’s people…
Scott: Filled with jealousy (which I refuse to tolerate especially without justification and believe me there is no justification [around here] which is a BIG part of the point of my needing to leave) and his just not wanting to let go. (And there are other issues that he and I have discussed [sort of, occasionally] which I am not yet ready to disclose, that have do to with my levels of tolerance on certain subjects that I am yet trying to determine whether are pertinent/important {in the big scheme of Life}. Yet he still insists on helping me with my house, assisting my leave. How does he do that? And how do I say “No.”? And how do I reward him without taking advantage? I am practicing full disclosure, to no avail.
Ron: A guy with a chainsaw, and a possible [and complicated] house offer.
Mike: My boss. Lots of issues, personal and professional.
Suzanne: My boss’ wife. Ditto, above.
Eulis: My elderly grandpa neighbor, who is once again fixing my lawnmower (while the third degree burns on his hands heal) in exchange for a hug and a basket of muffins.
Jessica: OMG. I really can’t talk about her without perhaps violating the Privacy Act. Same with every other person who has stepped into my personal space [or entered into it without my express personal invitation, and there have been many], while I’ve been so freakin’ stifled in this place I call home.
Dozens of people: People I could help, if I wanted to stick it out for the long haul. Dozens of people who tell me every day how much I will be missed. A really nice ego-boost, but it’s kind of liking being at my own funeral. Yucky, that is.
I really need to leave. I really need to say good-bye. I really need to get it freakin’ over with.
Yet, every time the realtor calls, I get scared.
I’m sure I’m confusing that feeling with anticipation. Right?
P.S. It’s all in God’s hands. I put it there. And I’m really okay with that. It makes it all okay. I am focusing on the journey (while setting my sights on the ultimate destination.) But I will not live forever on this planet. I want. What I want. And I want it now.
Patience.
Yeah, right.